A New Normal: Harm
by Syrae
Summary: Sometimes you just have to let things... happen. Final chapter!
1. Chapter 1

This happened. It'll be a one shot, as I have spontaneous, original ideas to expand on at the moment, but this is how it started from Harm's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

It hasn't been a conscious thought. He's at a point where he can blindly find his way through the organic grocery store two blocks from the apartment, so it takes no time at all to get everything for dinner. He reaches for her favorite cookies and the hazelnut coffee syrup she loves so much, and he's on his way again.

It's not until he closes the apartment door behind him, groceries in one hand, briefcase in the other, keys dangling from his fingers, that he realizes he's driven the car to Georgetown instead of Union Station.

Autopilot. He's been operating on autopilot and he panics. They haven't discussed him being here tonight. What if she made plans?

It's been a complicated case -one they've finally closed this afternoon- and they're spending more time with than without each other. He has trouble relaxing when she's not there.

The staying over thing has just happened: they've been working non-stop on this, at one point he's just told her to stay over and vice versa.

The first night they shared an actual bed, he felt hesitant and awkward for about as long as it took her to slide in next to him, turn down the lights and wish him goodnight. For the insomniac she is, her breathing evened out pretty quickly.

His shaving kit followed him around for exactly one week, before he got fed up with repacking it every morning, so now her bathroom has a duplicate. They relocated to her apartment after a trip out West for interviews and he just hasn't left.

She decided waiting for him to finish in the bathroom was too much of an effort on night five, so now they're circling each other and share the space. He's sure the woman knows more about him than all his previous girlfriends combined.

Two nights ago, he'd been shifting in his chair a bit too much, trying to get comfortable, while throwing around arguments for their closing. She made him a heat pack, rubbed his back with tiger balm and basically ordered him to bed early. She knows when he has a headache he can't shake, when he's overtired, when he's getting grumpy because his gut is telling him something's off but he can't pinpoint it.

It's been four and a half weeks now. Four weeks in which they've built… something. He doesn't dare question it because he knows that as soon as they start talking, they'll find ways to screw it up, and he doesn't want to do that. Anything but that. He likes this quiet calm. It's soothing, in a way.

The shower isn't running, which means she's either getting dressed or somewhere in the kitchen. He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. "Mac?"

She shows up in the bedroom door, dressed in her favorite sweats, squeezing the last drops of water out of her hair. "Hey. I was wondering what was keeping you."

The knot in his stomach loosens. There's no question as to why he's here. She doesn't even seem surprised, which he takes at face value. He might be able to pull rabbits out of his hat in a courtroom, being a lawyer and thinking on his feet takes work and effort and there are days he doesn't want to think. Today being one of them.

"Hi."

She smiles. "Cooking or ordering?"

His shoulders relax as he lowers his briefcase next to the door. "Cooking."

It's one of his favorite ways to decompress after a day like today, and the way to that woman's heart is through her stomach.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, taking the bag with groceries out of his hands. "Go change. I'll put the groceries away. What are we making?"

"Roast potatoes, salad, steak for you and salmon for me."

Her eyes light up. "You're making me steak?"

"Well, you know… Anything for you."

Her smile is radiant as she gives his hand a squeeze. He joins her in the kitchen not long after, changed into jeans and a T-shirt he's sure she'll steal at one point or another. Somehow, they tend to disappear to her pajama drawer after the laundry's been folded. He doesn't really care.

They fall into a rhythm: he preps and cooks, she sets the table. He feels the tension in his body ease, slowly, as she jokes about how he's forcing her to change her eating habits.

The way she digs into her steak with gusto brings a smile to his face. He's learned she appreciates the little things: the hazelnut coffee in her travel mug before they leave for work, the red meat he cooks for her once a week, the way he focuses his attention on her when she talks, the way he does a chore he knows she hates.

They've started to communicate again, instead of second guessing. The riddles and half truths have made way for honesty and straightforwardness. It's refreshing, being able to tell someone -her, specifically-, exactly what he's thinking and feeling without being judged for it.

They clear the table and do the dishes, quietly talking about this and that. He puts their newly compromised version of coffee on and when he reaches for a case file, sitting at the dining table, she shakes her head and tilts it to the couch.

He raises an eyebrow in question. Rolling her eyes, she runs a hand through his hair. "I think you've done enough work for today. There will be plenty of paperwork tomorrow to finish all we've done. We deserve a night off. Go relax, I'll bring coffee."

He closes his eyes, reveling in her soothing touch, and nods. Perhaps she's right. They've been working non-stop for a few weeks; he just hasn't stopped to think about it. Now that she mentions it, he's actually exhausted.

"Movie?"

"If you want." She presses a kiss to the top of his head and steps back. "I'll even let you pick it. Go."

He watched the opening credits, slowly sipping coffee, his feet propped up on the coffee table. She pulls her feet up, snuggles into his side, contentment on her face. It dawns on him why he steered the car in this direction. This is home.

For everything they've been through, every bump in the road they've had, every obstacle they had to overcome, she _still _makes his dispassionate plans. She makes sure he doesn't completely derail himself trying to get to the bottom of things, finding the truth.

She looks after him the same way he looks after her. Makes sure he doesn't overdo it. Doesn't run himself into the ground, trying to get something done. Trying to live up to everybody's expectations; especially his own.

For all the things they were never really able to express to each other, having lived with her for a few weeks now, it has changed things between them. He doesn't want to go back to the way it was before.

"By the way, the faucet in the bathroom is dripping again."

He smiles, pulling her a little closer. "I think we'll have to shop for a new one, then. All my fixes seem to be temporary instead of permanent."

"We'll go after grocery shopping Saturday," she decides.

Nodding, he focuses back on the screen. He could get used to this. Maybe it's time he just let it happen.


	2. Chapter 2

So since social distancing and vacation time means I have more free time, this happened. No promises on expanding is further, but enjoy this little snippet. :-)

* * *

It's the first time he's away on investigation by himself. Well, technically, that's not true. It's the first time he's away on investigation by himself since they… moved in together.

The term is new, still, because it's only been eight weeks. But he only sees his apartment when he's getting mail or extra clothes, and neither of them have said a word about him going back to Union Station.

He used to be used to this. He has done things by himself for most of his adult life; if he's being completely honest, he's done things by himself ever since his dad went MIA.

This is different, though. He's finally learned to depend on her presence. Not that he takes it for granted; they've been through too much together to ever let that happen. He's mindful about it. Cherishes every day he gets to spend with her. Her presence makes him less unpredictable, in a way, more secure in who he is. He doesn't have to prove his worth to her. She likes him just for who he is.

He realizes this is becoming serious. They've found a routine together; from groceries to chores. This is not a fling. Hell, they haven't even crossed that line yet. They sleep in the same bed, but for some reason they're both apprehensive to cross the line from friends to lovers. As if it'll change everything. Maybe it will, and that's why they are so hesitant.

He raises an eyebrow at Keeter's questioning gaze. It's the one upside to being away. He gets to do it with his oldest friend.

"What?"

"What's with the face?"

He shrugs, not making eye contact. "Just a bit unsettled, I guess."

He always looks forward to their quiet nights; whether they stay in or go out, take a walk, it's her who he wants to spend time with. He's not as reckless, because now he has her to come home to. Wants to go home to, at the end of a long day. More than anything.

"Unsettled? This something to do with Mac not being here?"

The Admiral kept her back at JAG because the caseload is barely doable, and they have too many inexperienced lawyers on staff to keep track off. Harm hates it.

"Maybe."

Keeter chuckles, glancing at the bird they're about to take up. "You're not happy about getting air time?"

"I am." He is. He just doesn't like she won't be here to greet him when he gets out of said bird. He hasn't even told her he's flying, because he knows she puts on a brave face, but will worry about him anyway.

"Come on, Rabb. At least _try _to be convincing." Keeter pats his back. "Where is she?"

"At home." His lips pull up. The word has new meaning now, something only the two of them know. He puts his hands on his hips, squinting in the daylight. "We're short-staffed, the Admiral decided to keep her at the office."

Keeter nods. "It's not because he's afraid you'll try to sneak into her bunk at night?"

He scoffs. "Come on, Keeter. As if I'd do that."

"You do remember I know you've done it before?"

His lips stretch into a grin. "Touché. But no, it's not that."

"Then what?"

"Just miss her."

If Keeter is surprised by the admission, he doesn't show it. "Does she know you're flying?"

"No." Although he wouldn't put it passed her to know anyway. The same way he always knows where she is, Mac has a way of knowing exactly what he's doing. "Don't want her to worry more than necessary."

He has a picture of them together in the front pocket of his flight suit. It's a way to keep her close by, somehow. He still wishes she was here to wish him good luck.

Right before take off, he hears her voice quietly in his ear. _Good luck, Flyboy. Be careful. _

It teaches him to never question their connection, because she always knows.

* * *

"How about this one?"

They're at Home Depot. After replacing the tap in the bathroom during the first month, Mac has now decided she wants a small bedroom/en suite overhaul. Harm knows he'd do anything and everything to make her happy, so Home Depot it is.

"That could work. Maybe we'd be better off with going with one color, though." He points to another faucet. "Unless you want to replace our semi-new tap, too."

Mac hesitates and Harm already knows what's coming. "No, you're not terrible if you want to change everything up again."

She swats his arm. "How do you know that?"

"I know you." His arm slips around her waist. "So, what's it going to be, Miss Mackenzie? Brass, copper or silver?"

He's having fun, overhauling their bedroom and en suite with her. They handle this like they do their cases: weighing pros and cons, debating about preferences and trying to compromise. It will take a few weekends to get all of it done, but he doesn't mind. She doesn't decide on a color until she's picked a shower head she likes, and then turns to him, question in her eyes.

"Yes?"

She purses her lips, hands on her hips. "It'll probably be way more work…"

"Tell me anyway," he encourages her. She so sporadically asks for things for herself, so he tries to encourage her to do it.

She glares at him. "Budget wise it'll probably be more than we both had in mind, but what if we get a different vanity, too? The one we have is kinda small for two, so a few extra inches might make a massive difference in storage space."

He wants to tell her that the few extra inches won't make any difference if she doesn't stop hoarding moisturizers, face creams and body lotions, but smartly decides against it. "Does this mean you've seen something you love?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "Maybe…"

"Show me, then." He doesn't care about the budget, he just wants her to decide on something for herself.

Two hours later, they've finally half-decided on a plan for the bathroom. He might have to take a few days off to actually get it done, but at least he's talked her out of retiling the entire thing. He loves her, but he's not completely renovating until they've bought something.

The admission is only in his head, but it makes him stop dead in his tracks. He _loves _her. He's known; he's known forever on some level. But it's been three months since they've moved in, and they're sharing so much more now than they ever have before. It makes him love her more.

She arches an eyebrow back in his direction, seeing the expression on his face. "You okay?"

He shakes it off. "Yes. I'm sorry, I zoned out. I'm perfectly okay." He reaches for her hand. "Let's go find some wallpaper."

* * *

The kisses start one morning. It's not something he thinks about - like so many other things anymore. He just does.

They're circling each other getting out the door; he's off to Norfolk for an interview, she's on her way to the office and he opens the door for her. She halts, looking back over her shoulder, quietly assessing if she has everything she needs.

He smiles. As organized as she usually seems, she can be a quirky kind of chaotic, especially in the morning. "Keys, phone, wallet, coffee and briefcase?" he rattles off. "Last nights case files?"

"Uh huh." Shrugging, she nods. "I have all those."

Well, then he can't think of anything else she might be missing. "Car keys?"

She holds her hand up to show him. "Got those, too." Shaking her head, she gives up. "Are you going to be on time of dinner?"

"That is my plan, yes."

She beams. "Great."

Their eyes lock and they both smile. This domesticity is wonderful to have together. It's the little things they share together now, that make the difference.

Mac turns, ready to step outside when he stops her. "Wait."

Surprised, she raises her eyes back to his. "What is it?"

Still smiling, he leans in and kisses her. It's short and sweet, more a peck on the lips than anything else, but a kiss nonetheless. Caught off guard, she blinks a few times before focusing back on him.

"What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason?"

Her smile is soft and her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. "No, I guess not."

He shoos her out the door. "Come on, Marine, we'll be late. Enjoy your day."

Biting her lip, she turns back over her shoulder. "You too, sailor."

He decides to never leave her without a kiss again.


	3. Chapter 3

All right, you wanted a chapter 3.

* * *

She's distracted. He can tell by the way she's drifting in and out of being present with him at the table, the way she's more playing with her food than eating any, staring at the spot over his shoulder into nothingness.

It's been a long week in a longer month, and they've been in and out of planes, on and off carriers with little down time in between. She's tired and she's dealing with a case he wouldn't want to deal with even if the Admiral paid him for an entire extra year.

He clears away the dishes and finds her still sitting at the dining table. Carefully, he brushes her shoulder. "Hon?"

Sighing, she leans her head back against him, pulling her lips into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I've been basically ignoring you."

"It's okay."

Knowing what he knows now, she's not doing it on purpose. She's working through something, which needs a little time. It's nothing personal. She won't talk about it yet, not until she's reached some sort of conclusion on her own and then she'll rehash the entire thing so he can listen. It's just her process.

"Why don't you go and take a bath? I'll be here when you want to talk."

Nodding, she pushes her chair back. "I'm not…"

He chuckles quietly, cupping her face in his hands. "You're not ignoring me. I know. Go soak." He presses a kiss to her forehead.

She disappears into their bedroom, closing the door behind her. In five months he's learned so much about her and the way she deals with things. The way they deal with things together. They're so much better at compromising than they ever have been.

It helps that the sexual tension is over and done with, hanging between them like some ever present barrier. They waited four months to cross that physical line with each other and it somehow made them better. He realizes now that it's truly the icing on the cake, because they learned to be a couple before adding sex into the mix.

She shuffles back into the living room just as he places a cup of cocoa on the coffee table. Silently, she nestles into his side, still staring into the distance. He only has to wait a little while before she turns to him.

Then, she starts to speak.

* * *

He's rushing home, taking the stairs two at a time because he's running late. It's their date night, he's made reservations but his last meeting went on longer than expected and traffic was hell.

Opening the door, he throws his briefcase in a chair and loosens his tie, calling for her. "Mac?"

She steps into the living room from the kitchen, barefoot, but already dressed. "Hi."

Unbuttoning his jacket, he bridges the gap between them. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was hell and Bud was going a mile a minute and wouldn't stop talking." He kisses her and lingers.

Mac smiles up at him. "You're forgiven. Go change. You want me to call the restaurant to say we're late?"

"Already did that." He steps into the bedroom, throwing his uniform jacket on the bed and strips down to his boxers. He's better prepared these days, and knowing how much she loves it when he takes her on a date, he calculates more time to get home and make sure they can leave on time.

It's something they agreed on after being on different continents for most of the month, the second month they lived together. They try and squeeze in an evening for the two of them every other week, depending on where they are. It doesn't have to be spectacular, but they can't talk about work or anything work related. It's specifically designed for them to reconnect and catch up.

As this is the six month anniversary of them moving in, he's planned something a bit more upscale. At least to celebrate they've come this far without killing each other or throwing the towel in.

She follows him into the bedroom, hanging his jacket on a hanger and smoothing the creases out of his pants. "Bud is still trying to prove himself now he's sort of back at the office," she says.

Harm nods, sighing. "I know. And every other day I wouldn't have found it a problem to stop and talk to him, but not tonight." He slips into a dress shirt and reaches for his slacks. "I told him I'd take him out for coffee tomorrow."

Her eyes follow him as he buttons his shirt. "You really blew him off because we are having date night?" Her voice is filled with wonder.

"Yes." His voice leaves no room for doubt.

"You shouldn't have done that," she softly chides him, stepping up to fix his collar into place. "Bud needs you. You're the only one who even remotely understands what he's going through."

Softly smiling, he brushes hair out of her face. "Yes, again. And I'll get to Bud, hear him out. But tonight, it's our date night, and we promised each other to make that a priority, right? To make _us_ a priority?"

She nods. "We did."

He knows she's still trying to get used to it. To be fair, he hasn't been this present or committed in any relationship the way he is now, but he'll be damned if it doesn't work because they haven't put the effort in. She's his first priority and she needs to know that.

"So Bud will have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I'm making time for you." He presses a chaste kiss to her lips, tucks his shirt into his slacks and steps back to reach for his shoes.

"Okay." A shy smile tugs on her lips as she sits down on the chair in the corner to put her heels on.

Five minutes later, he stops her as they're walking out the door. Confusion is visible in her eyes but he grins at her and squeezes her hand. "You look gorgeous and I love you."

Her cheeks turn pink but her smile is radiant. "I love you, too."

* * *

He finds it while browsing for a birthday present. Knowing she's not big on birthday celebrations, he wants to do something special anyway, even if it's small.

Halting in front of a jewelry shop, his eyes travel through the window. New diamond earrings, maybe? It's then that he sees it, almost invisible behind a display of necklaces. It's understated, almost simple.

He hesitates for a few seconds. Is it too soon to be buying an engagement ring? They've only been together for eight months. On the other hand, he's never been more sure about spending the rest of his life with anyone.

They've build a quiet life together. Their personal life isn't filled with big arguments or discussions. Not about relationship things, anyway. They will argue and discuss cases, investigations, but their communication has improved so much that they haven't even had an argument in the middle of the of bullpen in weeks. Maybe months. He's not sure.

They've even had a discussion about the next ten years, and although it was a lengthy one, they had it without yelling at each other and not wanting to give an inch on either side. They are finding ways to make it work, to put the effort in. To be honest, he's actually proud of them.

And who cares it's only been eight months? They've been work partners for six years, they know more about each other than anyone else will ever know and everybody's been mistaking them for a couple for longer than he dares to remember.

He'll have to figure out a way to ask her, but at least he'll have the ring. Given how much she hated the ring Brumby bought her, he understands she doesn't want big or showy. She simply wants a token of love, something that fits her slender fingers and doesn't scream at her.

Oh, who is he kidding? He'll end up buying her a ring anyway. Might as well be now.


	4. Chapter 4

And the final one in Harm's version. Happy reading!

* * *

He's given up on planning a proposal. The first time he got sent away on investigation, the second time, a month later, Harriet went into labor and they were babysitting AJ.

He settles on something heartfelt and small, on an early Sunday morning. At first, he grumbles about the time. The woman doesn't tend to sleep late, but there is something to be said for her being out of bed at 0800 on a Sunday morning. Especially if she's just back from a conference and he hasn't seen her in almost a week. He was actually hoping for round two, or at least a snuggle before getting up.

Sighing, he reaches for his sweatpants and a T-shirt, goes to the bathroom and finds her sitting at the dining room table, leafing through he newspaper.

His eyes travel from her neck down her spine. "Morning."

Her finger hooks with his pinky. "Morning, sleepy head."

He narrows his eyes at her. Really? "Coffee ready?"

"Always."

Sniffing, he pours himself a cup in the kitchen. It's on the bitter side. He'll never understand how she can drink tar in the early hours of the morning, or why she refuses to learn his recipe for their compromised version. Shuffling back into the living room, he slides into the chair next to her, yawning. "Why are you up so early?"

"Not sure. Just done sleeping."

He brushes hair behind her ear. "At eight o'clock on a Sunday morning? That's been a while ago."

"Eight fifteen," she counters. "And I know."

Harm shakes his head. They're up now, no point in going over the semantics. He'd been hoping to not be up until another hour at least.

"What are _you _doing up?"

"Nobody to snuggle with." It's something he throws in her face whenever she decides she needs to be up at oh-dark-thirty, especially during the weekend.

She's not fazed. "We can go back to bed…" she says, flipping another page of the newspaper. "What do you want to do?"

Now that is something he's thought about. Sundays are for brunch and walks, reading, naps and snuggles. Today might be a little different, but they can still stick to the routine.

"I was thinking we'd do brunch at La Fontaine…"

It's sure to get her attention. He only proposes La Fontaine for special occasions, because it's fancy and expensive.

"La Fontaine?" Her eyes don't leave the page yet. "What's the occasion?"

"Our engagement." He doesn't even think about it. He sounds more certain than he feels, though, but she doesn't need the grand gestures to know he loves her.

That finally makes her lift her eyes to him. The corners of her lips pull up. "Our engagement?"

Shifting in his seat, he pulls the jewelry box out of his pocket, opens it and sets it in the middle of the newspaper. "I'd like our new normal to be permanent," he says. "Marry me?"

Confident as he is about their relationship, his heart is in his throat as she looks at the ring he's picked for her.

"When?"

* * *

It's the morning after their wedding and for once he's awake before she is. They're staying in his parents guest house, with the beach as their back yard. Lying on his side, he silently studies her features.

They haven't made a huge deal out of getting married. In fact, the only people they've told are his parents. She was quite adamant about keeping it quiet, because that is the way it started. Might as well be the way they make it permanent.

He's pretty certain Harriet will keelhaul them both, but he doesn't care. She wanted something small and simple and that's exactly what she got.

It took them long enough to get it right; they'll celebrate with their friends when they get back to DC. This new normal will take some getting used to, especially when she changes jobs in a few weeks and their whole dynamic changes.

Funnily enough, they've made life altering decisions without anyone being the wiser other than them and the Admiral, because he had to sign off on it. He's always struggled with change, but she's excited about this new chapter and then so is he.

He'll never tire of waking up next to her. They've been through so much together and she's always had his back. Makes him a better person. Even his mother's told him he's calmer now, less prone to get something in his head and run with it without thinking it through.

Slowly, he trails his fingertips down her arm, marveling at the fact she's his wife now. They'd decided on non-traditional vows, because they've already kept all those. She's his home, in so many more ways than he can put into words.

He's committed himself to her and he's ready for their life to start together and have a family with her. In fact, he can hardly wait.

* * *

It's their second Christmas as a married couple. They've decorated the tree together, strung lights around the living room. As usual, they've spent way too much on Christmas gifts, but who cares? This is their new life together and for the third time in as many decades, he's looking forward to Christmas morning and opening presents, if only to see her face light up.

Pressing a kiss to her warm cheek, he slips out of bed, and after a pitstop in the bathroom, goes to put the coffee on. He'll give her a few extra minutes of well-deserved rest after he kept her up most of the night.

She loves her job; it's been a good decision for them. He misses her terribly at work to run ideas by, but thankfully she's only a phone call away and he can still go over cases during or after dinner. Although he's realized that _not_ talking about work usually makes for a better day, workaholics as they are. They do need the downtime.

He stares out over the snow-covered streets below, a cup of coffee in his hand, when her arms wrap around him from behind.

He chuckles. "Good morning, sleepy head."

"Mmm… It's too early to be morning."

"What are you doing out here, then?"

"Bed is cold."

More chuckling. She's still a desert person and uses him as her personal furnace, especially in bed. He might yelp whenever she presses her cold feet to his shins, he loves to wrap her in his arms.

"It's Christmas morning," he says softly.

"I know." Her ear presses to the place between his shoulder blades. "Why are you so excited?"

Half turning in her direction, he lifts his arm and wraps it around her waist. "Because I get to spend it with you."

She snuggles into his side and sighs contentedly. "You're getting soft in your old age, Mr. Rabb."

He pulls her closer. "Only with you, Mrs. Rabb."

They quietly watch the lights, sipping from the same cup of coffee until it's empty. It's the silent moments like these that made him realize they had a shot at making it work. They have so little use for words when they're together. They do better showing each other than they do telling, although their overall communication has improved greatly.

"You want to open presents?"

Tradition dictates they open one before breakfast. She nods. "You open mine first."

Setting the mug down on the window sill, he reaches for the slim package she's holding out to him. Unwrapping the box, it takes a second to sink in. Two pink lines.

His eyes lift to hers in wonder and he has trouble finding words. "Yes?"

She nods, looking adorable as ever in his sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. She confirms the things that will turn their lives upside down again but that he's been looking forward to since forever.

"Yes."


End file.
